


Achieve What is Great

by westernsunset



Category: Tortall - Tamora Pierce
Genre: F/M, Gen, West Wing AU, this is only west wing in that it's about politics and my own personal political wishlist
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-14
Updated: 2019-01-25
Packaged: 2019-07-12 07:21:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 6,500
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15990398
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/westernsunset/pseuds/westernsunset
Summary: Jon Conte is going to be a new kind of President, and he's taking some very smart people with him.--credit to dovebalitang on tumblr for her west wing / tortall au idea.





	1. Power Couple

Jon allowed himself one frustrated sigh as Alanna shut the door behind the 8th candidate he’d met that day. 

“Oh no, you can’t be tired yet. Democratic Party nominee for President, don’t let a day of meetings bore you,” Alanna said.

“I’m not bored,” Jon hated the defensiveness that crept into his voice, but the day had worn on him. “I’m disappointed. This is really the cream of the crop?”

“Jon.” Now it was Alanna’s turn to sound frustrated. “I arranged meetings with every governor, senator and Congressperson I could. You didn’t exactly give me an expansive criteria to work with. I had to pull state assembly representatives for goodness sake.”

“I didn’t think it would be this hard to find someone,” Jon said. He knew he was outside the mold of what the Democratic Party was looking for. The son of a wealthy Congressman from Connecticut, no one had been surprised when Jon Conte II was elected to take over his father’s seat. But Jon had shocked and alienated some of his base after he passed his first bill, a tax increase on millionaires and billionaires, with the revenue supporting a program that helped low income people heat their homes. He’d lost a fair amount of donors, but gained even more loyal volunteers.

During his ten years in Congress and six years in the Senate, Jon had proved himself to be an effective legislator and negotiator, as well as a champion of progressive ideals. His filibuster against the repeal of restrictive gun laws in his first year in the Senate has catapulted him onto the national stage, and created a significant amount of pressure that the bill was dropped. 

When the presidential election rolled around, some in the party worried that Jon wasn’t electable outside of the liberal east coast enclave he represented. But Jon proved to be popular across the country, due in no small part to his wife.

Thayet Wilima was a Senator from Idaho with a fierce determination and a strong moral compass. Jon had fallen in love with her almost immediately. She’d been elected during his second term in the House, and carried many of his bills in the Senate. The two got married four years after they started dating and were something of a political power couple. When Jon decided to run for President, Thayet helped him craft a platform that would appeal not just to educated eastern progressives, but to working class people all across the country.

He looked at his wife now, who was sitting in on his meetings with possible vice presidential candidates. “What do you think, Thayet?”

“I think your best choice is the Governor of North Carolina,” she said. “He’s older, so he lends experience and gravitas to the campaign, and he may help in the South.”

“No disrespect, but he was so boring I don’t think he’ll help anywhere,” Jon grumbled.

“Jon!” Alanna sounded exasperated. His campaign manager, Alanna had been working 12 to 16 hour days since Jon first announced his run. She believed whole-heartedly in the candidate, but sometimes she wished he wasn’t so stubborn. It was times like this his “Rich Congressman’s Son” side showed through. She shot a glance at Thayet. The two women, both from working class backgrounds, served as a strong check on some of Jon’s elitism. “What exactly do you want in a candidate?”

“I do want someone who can appeal outside my own base, which means someone from the South or the Midwest,” Jon said, with a nod to Alanna. That had been her idea. “But I want someone dynamic, someone with governing experience, and for the love of all the Gods above, someone who’s not a white man!”

Alanna was quiet for a moment, and then an evil looking smile spread across her face.

“No, what’s that, that’s your Idea Face,” Jon said. “Last time I saw that face I ended up running for President.”

“What about Thayet?”

“What about her?”

“As your Vice President,” Alanna said.

“Alanna, don’t be ridiculous,” Thayet said. “I couldn’t be the First Lady and the Vice President.”

“Why not? The responsibilities are basically the same, and you meet every one of Jon’s qualifications. You’re highly intelligent, you’re incredibly progressive, and middle America loves you. Hell, they love you more than they love Jon.”

“No way. Categorical no. Right Jon?” Thayet asked, looking to her husband for support.

Jon was looking intently at Alanna. “She’s my main policy advisor anyway. It’s actually probably better if she’s elected, then she has a constitutionally protected way to give me advice.”

“It would help you fend off any charges of a meddling wife who pulls all the strings, which you know the Republicans will do,” Alanna said.

“And it presents us as a partnership, equals, which is what we are. I actually think this could work.”

“Hello!” Thayet said. “Isn’t anyone going to ask what I think about all this?”

“Sorry. But think about it Thayet. We would be unstoppable,” Jon said. “And beyond that, I think you’d be good at it. I think there’s no one I’d rather have take over if I die.”

“Romantic,” Thayet said sarcastically. But Jon could tell from the look in her eye that she was considering it.

“Do you think it would hurt Jon politically,” Thayet asked Alanna.

“Truthfully, Thayet, I think it would help him.”

Thayet nodded seriously and looked back at Jon.

“Ok.”

“Ok you’ll do it?”

“I’ll do it.”

Jon leaped out of his chair to give his wife a hug. “Thayet! We’re going to be history makers! The husband-and-wife team changing this country for the better.”

“I’ll start working on an event where you can make the formal announcement,” Alanna said, already composing an email on her Blackberry.

“Ok,” Jon said. “What’s next?”


	2. New Blood

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jon hires a new speechwriter without talking to Alanna, which she is obviously not ok with.
> 
> \--
> 
> there's some strong language because I am modeling Alanna after Rahm Emanuel, famously foul-mouthed chief of staff to President Obama

Alanna Olau was a busy woman. A national presidential campaign meant she was up every morning at 6am and sometimes didn’t get home until midnight, usually without a moment of rest in between. From the moment she woke up she was answering emails and taking calls from satellite campaign offices across the country. She helped coordinate Jon’s travel, media appearances, and events in every state. Every night, she took a look at the numbers from their various offices to make sure they were on track to meet their voter registration and door-knocking goals. She would strategize with Jon about where to put their scarce resources, approve donor requests, and work on outlines for his speeches. Her head swam with details of the campaign and more than once this week she’d woken up at 3am with a new idea, or something she forgot to do.

It was worth it though. Alanna was passionate about Jon Conte, and his ideas for America. She’d showed up at his campaign office for his second Congressional run and had proven to be a hard-working and intelligent volunteer. For his next campaign, Jon gave her a paid position, both on the campaign and eventually in his district office. By the time he ran for Senate, Alanna was his campaign manager and later his chief of staff (never at the same time of course. Alanna didn’t always take the ethics rules seriously, but Jon did). 

She couldn’t even complain about the level of work if she wanted to. It had been her idea for Jon to run for president. She’d laid out the facts, the political reality in this country and made Jon believe not just that he could win, but that his win would change America for the better. She still thought that. But five and a half hours of sleep was enough to make even the most committed supporter question things.

She took a sip from her extra large coffee (first of many that day) and strode into the dark campaign headquarters. As usual, she was the first one there. Or so she thought.

Alanna noticed a light on in her office and she shook her head, smiling. She must have forgotten to turn it off last night.

The first thing she noticed when she walked in was a second desk, crammed into the corner of her not-very-spacious office. The second thing she noticed was a lanky man tapping away at a laptop, who looked up when she came in.

“You must be Alanna,” he said, standing up to shake her hand.

Alanna didn’t move, or rearrange the coffee, Blackberry and folder she was carrying to shake the man’s hand.

“What are you doing here?” she asked, wondering if she should be worried.

“I’m Gary, I’m the new speechwriter,” he said.

“I didn’t hire you.”

“No you didn’t.”

“So why are you here?”

“Senator Conte hired me,” Gary said sheepishly.

“Well this is the first I’ve heard of it,” Alanna said, peeved. “When did he ‘hire’ you?”

“Last week. I was working for Governor Eldorn--”

“Woah woah woah!” Alanna cut him off. Governor Eldorn was the other Democrat running for the nomination who had just dropped out. “You were working for Eldorn last week and now you’re here? Let the body go cold in the grave at least!”

Gary raised his eyebrows. “I don’t understand.”

“You don’t seem to have any loyalty to your former boss,” Alanna said, a little louder and a little slower than she needed you. “Jumping ship as soon as he went down.”

Gary knitted his eyebrows, but didn’t say anything.

“Well?! Don’t you think so?” Alanna said.

“I don’t,” was Gary’s calm, measured reply.

“Well I do, and I’m the campaign manager, and I don’t want someone I can’t trust on the campaign!” Alanna was shouting now. “So get out of my office!”

“It’s not just your office anymore.” It seemed the angrier Alanna got, the calmer Gary became, and it was starting to piss her off.

“Excuse me!?”

“Senator Conte hired me. If he wants me off the campaign, or he doesn’t trust me, he can tell me himself, but until then, I’m going to keep working on his remarks for the event in Wisconsin.” With that, Gary sat back down at his desk and started typing again.

“You won’t last,” Alanna said icily from her own desk.

“Maybe not.”

“This isn’t just a job. You can’t work for Jon if you’re going to bolt at the first sign of trouble.”

“I understand.”

“I don’t think you do.”

“That’s your right.”

Alanna realized this was going to be like arguing with a brick wall. Gary wasn’t even looking up from his computer, so she set her things down, and started to check in with the offices on the east coast that were opening.

When Jon came in at eight, Alanna was hot on his heels.

“We need to talk,” she said, shutting his door.

“Good morning to you too,” Jon said, juggling his own large cup of coffee and speech drafts.

“Why the fuck did you hire a senior staffer without checking with me?”

“Oh, you met Gary.”

“Uh, yeah Jon I ‘met Gary’ he’s in my goddamn office.”

“Well, it’s not your office anymore, it’s the office you share with Gary. Our new speechwriter.”

“I’m going to kill you.”

“Oh come on Alanna,” Jon said, frustration rising. Clearly Alanna wasn’t the only one making do on very little sleep. “You know I trust you more than anyone, but you’re spreading yourself too thin and it’s starting to show. Gary’s just here to handle the speeches,” Jon said.

“And it doesn’t bother you he just left the Eldorne campaign? Jon, he could be a spy!”

“Why would that matter? Eldorne’s out of the race and you have to admit, he made some great speeches and his performance at the debates was impressive. I’ve seen Gary write, all the pithy phrases and well-articulated policy was Gary’s doing, not Eldorne’s.”

“And it doesn’t at all bother you that he didn’t support you in the primary? He threw himself behind a different candidate! And then went that went south, he came here! He has no loyalty Jon!”

“You don’t even know him,” Jon said.

Something in the way he said it gave Alanna pause. “Wait. You do know him. Who is he?”

“I told you, he’s our speechwriter.”

“No, who is he to you?”

After a pause, Jon said, “he was a year above me at Exeter.”

“Christ,” Alanna said.

“Alanna come on, it’s not like that—”

“He’s a prep school boy, of course! You needed someone rich and white if you’re going to really win this thing—”

“That’s not fair and you know it. You haven’t even seen him write, he’s talented—”

“Oh I’m sure he is, best education money can buy, right Jon?”

“I can’t talk to you when you get like this!”

“When I get like what?! Am I being too aggressive for the rarified Ivy Leaguer? Is that it? You think I’m scaring away the big donors? Why don’t you just fire me, bring in Brad McWhite to do a better job!”

The two stood facing each other. If Alanna had been five inches taller, they would have been nose to nose. Jon completely forgot how small his friend and advisor was when they argued. Alanna could make herself seem ten feet tall and cow the most terrifying men with her intellect and strength. She knew how to push Jon’s buttons, better than anyone. And it usually took a screaming match before he realized he was so angry because she was right, and he was wrong.

Jon sighed. “You know what. You’re right. It was completely wrong of me to hire Gary without running it by you. I thought it would be a decision we could both agree on and I wanted to snap him up before someone else did, but I wasn’t thinking, and I should have realized that ultimately, it’s you who has to work and coordinate with the staff. I’m sorry about that.”

Just like that, the wind was out of Alanna’s sails. It was why she continued to stick by Jon year after year. It was probably why he would become the president. He had a knack for really hearing people’s concerns buried beneath everything else and addressing their worries. And he didn’t make empty promises. As long as Alanna had known him, he’d taken even the harshest criticism into consideration, changed his behavior, and used people’s disagreement to make him a stronger elected official. Years of experience with Jon told her that in the future, he would check with her about staffing decisions, he’d make sure not to blindside her again.

She sighed. “I still don’t know if I trust him.”

“I’m not asking you to trust him right away. Be open to him surprising you,” Jon said, clearly relieved his campaign manager wasn’t still angry.

Alanna huffed. “And I expect to have final review of all speeches.”

“Of course.”

“Fine. Then I’m going to look over whatever drivel he produced for the Wisconsin event.”

“Sounds fine,” Jon said. “I have a donor call in ten, work out any issues with Gary. Can you get me a final draft by 2pm?”

“Probably,” Alanna said, then added in a murmur as she left, “unless I fire him first.”

Jon wisely pretended not to hear the second part.

When Alanna came back to her office, Gary was still at the desk, tapping away.

“The Senator seems to think you’ll bring something valuable to the team,” she said. “I’m not convinced yet.”

Gary nodded. “Hopefully I can change that.”

“Hmm,” Alanna hummed noncommittally. “Give me that speech when you’re done with it, so I can look it over.”

“Already printed and on your desk. I’m working on a new stump speech about the economy now, but I’ll make the edits to the Wisconsin remarks when you’re done with it.”

Alanna nodded, secretly impressed with how fast Gary worked. “Fine.”

“Great.”

As volunteers started to file into the headquarters, Alanna got up to shut the door to her—their—office, trying not to bump into the new desk on the way.


	3. Spies

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alex Tirragen, Director of the CIA, knows everything. And Jon knows nothing about him

Jon didn’t know what to expect when he met Alex Tirragen for the first time, but the whole thing was strange. For one, he didn’t look at all like how Jon expected him to. For someone who loomed so large, Alex Tirragen was surprisingly slight. He was three inches shorter than Jon and slim, with dark brown hair and dark eyes. His suit was noticeably well-fitting, showing off a trim physique. 

Stranger still, he appeared to travel without any security, or if he did have security, they were even better trained the Secret Service who Jon sometimes forgot were even following him. Jon would think the Director of the CIA would have some security with him, but maybe Alex knew enough to defend himself. But it was still odd to see such a powerful man traveling completely alone.

Strangest of all, he arrived right on time for his meeting with Jon. Not a couple minutes early, out of eagerness and respect for the office. Not a few minutes late, with the excuse of an incredibly busy schedule, to make Jon feel like an imposition on his time. But almost exactly as the second hand passed 9am, Roald buzzed Jon to say that Director of the CIA, Alex Tirragen was in the lobby.

“Director,” Jon said, shaking the man’s hand. Like his arrival, his handshake was neither too soft nor too firm. Alex wasn’t testing his strength or intimidated by Jon. Alex Tirragen simply was. “Please, come in. Would you like some coffee? Water?”

“Thank you, no,” Alex said. _Trust a spy not to take a drink in an unfamiliar setting_ , Jon thought, gesturing to the couch for Alex to sit.

“I appreciate you making time to see me,” Jon said.

“Of course.” Jon reflected that one of the reasons Alex rose through the ranks of the CIA so quickly was that it was supremely easy to read onto him whatever you wanted. Everything about him was so neutral, so average. Jon knew if he passed Alex on the street, he wouldn’t give him a second look. In a janitor’s uniform, he’d go unnoticed taking things out of garbage cans. In a suit, he’d go unnoticed taking important papers out of a building. He blended in perfectly with his surrounding, which was probably the ideal characteristic for the head of the most important security and intelligence agency.

“I wanted to have the chance to get to know you, let you know what I’ve been briefed on, and I hope you can fill in any gaps I may have,” Jon said, pulling out his folder, crammed with notes from the various high-level meetings and briefings he’d taken since assuming the office of the President. He’d thought once or twice how odd it was that just a month before he barely had the lowest level of security clearance, and now he had access to all the nation’s most sensitive secrets. The only thing that had changed was an election. A couple million votes and someone who could barely be trusted with troop movements now knew more than anyone else in the nation.

Well, anyone except Alex Tirragen.

Alex listened patiently as Jon ran through what had been told to him, occasionally confirming something, or making a small correction. When Jon finished, he turned to the director. “Anything I missed?”

Alex looked at him with clear gray eyes. While Alex thought, Jon considered all the rumors about the man. It was said there wasn’t a government or personal secret on Capitol Hill that Alex didn’t know. Staffers told stories of missives arriving from the CIA mere days after they’d wondered aloud about issues. When agents wanted a meeting, they were always able to catch you on an errand, or drop by just as a Congressman thought they had a half hour free. Half the government thought he was a genius, who’d made the country safer than it’d ever been before. The other half was convinced he was tapping their phones, trying to root out political enemies. The charge of rooting out enemies would have held more weight if anyone could figure out who Alex’s enemies were. Or even what his politics were. Or anything about him, really.

Jon knew the rumors as well as anyone else in Washington did. That Alex’s fierce privacy wasn’t just the posture of a successful intelligence agent, but was also to cover up his sexuality. It was one of those rumors that everyone believed, but no one could ever confirm. After all, Alex wasn’t like the other closeted people in D.C. There were no whispers about bartenders he’d slept with, no one spotted him out at any bar, and if he’d told anyone, they were keeping just as tight a lid on it as he was. Which is all to say, it wasn’t as if Alex’s sexuality was an “open secret.” It was something that no one knew. Part of Jon thought people only assumed Alex was gay because he was close to fifty and still unmarried. But he knew that wasn’t all of it. There was a reticence, a holding back about Alex that Jon had always sensed, and now meeting the man in person, he could feel it even more.

After a long moment, Alex simply said, “no, I think you’re all caught up to speed.”

“Really? Well, this is a first! Usually my staff misses something, so I’ll have to give my intelligence team a raise,” Jon tried for a joke.

Alex gave a polite, tight smile. “Did you have any questions?”

How was Jon supposed to ask a question about something he didn’t even know? He was sure that his briefings didn’t contain everything, as sure as he was that he stood on two feet. But he didn’t want to sound paranoid, or like he didn’t trust Alex.

“Not right now. I was hoping you could fill me in on anything the representatives from the CIA maybe missed.”

“No, they didn’t miss anything.”

Jon had no response to that, so he just stayed quiet. Alex was quiet too.

“Rest assured, as soon as something comes up, you’ll know,” Alex said after a moment.

“Thank you. It was my hope we could meet monthly.”

Alex nodded. “Of course Mr. President. If there’s nothing else?”

“No, nothing else,” Jon said, standing. Only after he stood did Alex stand up and shake Jon’s hand. And even though Jon was the one to show Alex out, he couldn’t shake the feeling that it was Alex who dismissed him.

Jon didn’t know what to make of Alex Tirragen. But he knew someone who would.

—

“You wanted to see me?” Raoul said, sticking his head into the Oval Office.

“Roald!” Jon called out. “Stop letting Raoul barge in!”

Jon’s young assistant popped in behind Raoul. “Sorry sir, I don’t know how this keeps happening.” Roald was a serious, hyper-organized, recent college graduate who let almost nothing slip past him. Except Raoul. That was Raoul’s effect on people. 

Six foot three inches and oddly muscled for a man who worked in politics, there wasn’t a place in Washington where Raoul wasn’t welcome. He’d been Chief of Staff to the Democratic Speaker of the House, back when the Democrats still controlled the House. Once Speaker Myles resigned after 40 years in government, Raoul started working on campaigns. His work with Keladry Mindelan, and her ascent from freshman Oregon Congresswoman to minority leader of the House was one of the most talked-about political stories of the last election cycle. 

Jon reached out to Raoul when he was still fighting for the nomination, to make it clear that if he did indeed with the presidency, he wanted Raoul to come on board as a Congressional liaison. Raoul, splitting his time between four different Senate campaigns, had assured Jon he was interested. Even so, Raoul was surprised when Jon officially asked him to serve in the administration.

Part of what made Raoul so well-liked was that he didn’t act like he was better than anyone. He was as kind to a janitor in the Senate cafeteria as he was to the Vice President. He didn’t quite have Jon’s gift for making everyone feel special or singular, but everyone had fun with Raoul. And still, when Jon offered him the job, he seemed genuinely surprised, shocked even that anyone would want to hire him for such a prestigious job. The more Jon got to know the friendly political mastermind, the more he realized that some of Raoul’s gregariousness was masking a slight sense of inadequacy. But this was the White House, and Jon didn’t necessarily have the time to tease out the emotional lives of his employees. 

“Sit, please Raoul,” Jon said, gesturing to one of the couches. They’d both learned the hard way that the 1800s chairs Jon decorated his office with were too thin for a man of Raoul’s large frame. Raoul sat across from Jon on the pale pink couch that allegedly used to belong to Jackie Kennedy.

“I met with Alex Tirragen,” Jon said. Raoul just raised his eyebrows. “It went fine, I guess.”

“He’s hard to read,” Raoul supplied.

“Impossible! I think he was helpful, but I couldn’t tell if he was holding things back?”

“Wait, do you think I know what the director of the CIA is potentially holding back? Jon, you know you can come to me for any and all capitol gossip but I don’t have a repository of state secrets.”

Jon laughed. “You’ve talked to him before though, haven’t you?”

“Sure, here and there.”

“I guess I’m trying to figure out if he was being deliberately reticent of if that’s how he always is.”

“What did the Vice President think?”

“Oh, I haven’t had a chance to ask Thayet yet.”

Raoul narrowed his eyes a bit. “Mr. President, why are you asking me about Director Tirragen?” Before Jon had a chance to respond, Raoul cut him off with, “I should rephrase. What are you asking me about Director Tirragen?”

“Well, you know the rumors,” Jon said.

“The rumor that Director Tirragen is gay.”

“Well, is he?”

“Jon, we don’t all know each other,” Raoul said, some of the good humor seeping out of his voice.

“You know I’m not suggesting that. I’m just asking if there’s credence to the rumor.”

“Look, you know I’m the last person to advocate for someone to stay in the closet, or to say it ‘doesn’t matter’ that someone is gay. But Jon, do you really need to know? How would it change your relationship with the CIA director to know who exactly he was taking home from the bar?” Raoul said.

“I’m just wondering if he’s being so careful because he’s keeping state secrets from me, or because he’s keeping his personal life from me!”

“So just ask him if he’s keeping state secrets from you! Jon, you’re the president, you can order him to do whatever you need him to do to help the country, whether or not he’s gay has nothing to do with his job.”

“But you know,” Jon pressed.

“I know a lot of things.”

“About Tirragen?”

“I just know lots of things.”

“You’re being very frustrating right now,” Jon said, good-naturedly.

“Jon, you can order me to tell you, but until you do, I really don’t think whatever I know or don’t know is any of your business,” Raoul was smiling, but it didn’t sound like he was joking.

“Ugh, no I’m not going to order you. You’re right, it’s not my business, but truly what is the point of being president if I can’t learn all the gossip?” At this, Jon dramatically leaned on couch, one hand on his head.

Raoul laughed. “I thought the point of being president was to learn if there was evidence of UFOs.”

“Oh that’s the other thing! Tirragen just smiled and said ‘everyone asks that’! He didn’t even answer!”

“You’re kidding!” At this Raoul did really sound shocked. “Maybe he is keeping something from you then. There’s got to be UFO evidence out there. Did you push him on it?”

“No, I worried he wouldn’t take me seriously if I asked more than once. But I told him I’d like monthly meetings, so maybe I’ll bring it up at the next one.”

“Smart. I mean, learning about UFOs is the only reason I came to work in the White House.”

“Oh Raoul,” Jon said as the two stood up and Raoul went towards the door. “That’s cute you think you’d have security clearance to hear about the UFOs.”

“Ha ha ha,” Raoul mocked. “We’ll see what security clearance I do or don’t have when I get your child-welfare-new-deal-omnibus-pork-barrel-spending-bill through Congress.”

“Stop calling it that!” Jon said.

“Sorry, Giving Reasonable Opportunities to Women with Children, or GROW with Children.”

“Oh man, is that the best you could come up with?”

“You don’t like it?” Raoul looked genuinely surprised.

“Reasonable? That’s very much not what we’re going for. And it’s not just for women. Is that name set in stone?”

“No, and your objection is noted. I’ll come up with some new ones for you by tomorrow.”

“Thanks Raoul,” Jon said, waving his liaison out. Then he remembered something. “Hey Raoul, wait.”

Raoul popped his head back in.

“If Alex Tirragen _was_ gay…would you date him?”

Raoul laughed. “Come on Mr. President, you should know I’d never date a Republican.”

“He’s a Republican?!”

Raoul laughed. “I’ll bring you the new bill names tomorrow. And more hot gossip, if you want. You sound like you’re very behind.”

Jon rolled his eyes and shooed Raoul out, as Roald buzzed him about his next meeting.


	4. Tip Off

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Speaker of the House Wyldon Cavall has his first meeting with new President Jon Conte.
> 
> \--
> 
> apparently in this universe there are Tortall politicians but also Ronald Reagan and Tip O'Neill. That's mostly because I love Tip O'Neill and I also love the insults he hurled at Reagan. I don't know, I just thought that Jon and Wyldon would have a very Reagan/Tip relationship, and you'll see what that means in the fic.
> 
> also if you want to talk about Native American land ownership, come find me on tumblr at nevertobecaught because I have OPINIONS

Wyldon Cavall shifted discreetly in his seat. It was a rainy day in Washington D.C. and as on all rainy days, his arm was throbbing. A souvenir of his time in a prisoner of war camp in Vietnam, he’d never recovered full movement of his arm. Not that anyone would ever see him complaining. A Texan Republican with traditional values, Wyldon believed that complaints were a sign of weakness, and pain should be borne in silence.

His stoic demeanor made him very different from some of his newly-elected colleagues, but they still respected him immensely. Most of his Republican colleagues were deferential to him, as a long-serving Congressman and a war hero. In fact, only Wyldon had been surprised when he was elected Speaker of the House. Among his many qualities, he was also uncommonly humble. 

Even he had to acknowledge, though, that he was the best person to lead the House. Republicans had only narrowly held onto their majority in the House, and they’d lost the Senate and the presidency. Which meant if they wanted to pass anything, they’d have to figure out how to work with the Democrats. Most of the newly-elected Congresspeople didn’t have the temperament for bipartisan work and the ones who had been in the House longer knew that Wyldon was the best at negotiating of them all. He’d been an easy choice for Speaker.

“He’s ready for you,” came a quiet voice. Wyldon looked around and matched the voice with the young man behind a computer near the door to the Oval. Looks like Jon—President Conte, had replaced Delilah, President Rogers old secretary. He’d liked her, a kind older woman who always remembered to ask after Wyldon’s daughters. But the new president apparently wanted to put new faces in every corner of the government. And that was his prerogative. Didn’t mean Wyldon had to like it.

“Mr. Speaker!” Jon Conte was already standing in the center of the Oval Office when Wyldon entered. “If it’s alright with you, I thought we’d talk over lunch. I had the cooks set up in the dining room.” 

“That’s fine,” Wyldon said, as the President ushered him into the Oval.

“You’ve been to the White House before, yes?”

“Just the parts they show the elected officials when we come for receptions. I’ve can’t say I’ve been to the private dining room,” Wyldon admitted.

“It’s lovely. I mean, the whole building is nice, as long as you don’t mind living in a museum,” Jon laughed.

Wyldon gave a tight smile. It wasn’t that he didn’t have a sense of humor, it was more that he disliked banter that distracted from the task at hand. And he noticed that people often tried to use humor and personality to cover up intellectual defects. Of course, that probably wasn’t the case with President Conte. Probably.

“You’re not a vegetarian are you?” Conte said when the two of them sat down.

A vegetarian? Wyldon was from Texas. He would be alive if he didn’t eat meat. In fact, he was pretty sure he needed meat to live. But all he said was “no.”

“Good, because today is Greek Lamb Salad. I’m not really sure what it is quite frankly, it seems to be ground lamb with cucumbers and tomatoes? Tzatziki too? I don’t know, it’s what they have in the mess, and I didn’t want to make more work for the cooks.”

“That’s fine Mr. President.”

Jon Conte didn’t say much for a minute, content to sit back and regard Wyldon. This was the first time they’d ever met one-on-one, even though they’d overlapped while Conte was in the House. Truthfully, Wyldon hadn’t had a very high opinion on him then. Conte was a little too fond of the bully pulpit, fighting battles in the press instead of in private. Vote against one of his bills and he’d be on all the cable news shows, explaining why your vote was going to ruin America. It just wasn’t how Wyldon did business and he found it hard to respect the younger politician.

Wyldon didn’t know if the intensity he was feeling from his lunch companion was the added power of the presidency or the authoritative Conte energy he’d heard so much. Whenever Wyldon had questioned another Republican on why they’d agreed to so many concessions in a meeting with Conte, they’d always come back with the same answer. “I can’t explain it, he just has a way about him. He made his way seem so simple. Like I was under a spell.”

Magic, Jon Conte wasn’t. But Wyldon still found himself looking down at his water glass, the decor, the place setting, anything to not look Conte directly in the eyes. It was a very intense gaze.

“How’s the arm?” Wyldon was taken aback. Of all the opening lines, he wasn’t expecting that one.

“Excuse me?”

“The arm. I remember one of Myles’s staffers telling me the damp aggravates old breaks. And Senator Groton always swore he could tell when the next day would be rainy, based on knee pain,” Conte said cheerfully.

“My arm is fine, thank you for asking.”

“And how’s Vivenne?”

Wyldon was getting frustrated with pleasantries. He had more important things to do than have a friendly lunch with a political rival. “She’s fine Mr. President, but that’s not why I’m here is it?”

Jon raised his eyebrows. Just a little. Just enough. “No, I suppose it’s not.”

“Well if it’s about that bill to take millions of dollars worth of federal land and give it away, I can tell you that’s going to be an uphill battle,” Wyldon said.

“No, the Land Restoration Act is Vice President Wilima’s initiative, I’ll let her handle it. But it’s not giving land away, it’s ensuring that all the land within a Native American reservation will belong to the tribe, not the patchwork of state, federal, tribal and private land it is today. But no, that’s not the reason for the meeting.”

“Then what’s the reason for the meeting?” Wyldon said.

“You know the story about Reagan and Tip, right?” Conte said.

Wyldon fought to stop himself from rolling his eyes. Conte was no Ronald Reagan, and if he thought he was, he was delusional. But Wyldon obliged anyway. “Is that what this is? A lunch once a week and you think you’ll get me to push all your bills through the House? Reagan and Tip were friends, but that didn’t mean Tip passed anything Reagan wanted without a fight.”

“Ah, but the weekly lunches between the President and the Speaker were only one part of the story with Reagan and Tip. And they weren’t friends.”

“All due respect Mr. President, but they were. I was in the House during the Reagan years,” Wyldon failed to keep the frustration from his voice.

“Tip once called Reagan the most ignorant man who had ever occupied the White House! He was constantly bad-mouthing Reagan in the press. And Tip never gave an inch when it came to the policies he cared about,” Conte said. 

Wyldon opened his mouth to respond, but Conte held up a hand. To Wyldon’s surprise, he closed his mouth again. 

“And I don’t expect you to do anything different. Keep your party in line, fight for what you want. You don’t have to be my friend, you don’t have to like me at all. But I want to keep the lines of communication open. I don’t think either Reagan or Tip enjoyed those dinners. But they had them every week anyway so they both knew what the other was doing. And I’d like the same for us.”

There was a pause. Wyldon understood now what plenty of his colleagues had said before. He didn’t want to have lunch with Jon Conte every week. He didn’t like Jon Conte. He didn’t like what he stood for. He thought Jon Conte’s high taxes and endless spending would completely bankrupt the country, and he didn’t want to be any part of it. But now, sitting here in front of the man, hearing him lay out this plan, feeling that acute stare, he didn’t feel like he could say anything else.

“You’re no Ronald Reagan, Mr. President,” was Wyldon’s response.

“And you’re no Tip O’Neill.”

“Thank Gods for that,” Wyldon said and Conte smiled.

“So a standing lunch then?”

Wyldon sighed. “Alright, a standing lunch. But I won’t go easy on you, in the House or in the press.”

“I don’t expect you to. Like I said, we don’t have to like each other. You know what Reagan used to call Tip O’Neill?”

“What?” Wyldon asked.

“Pac-Man. Because Tip was a round thing that gobbled up money.”

A laugh escaped Wyldon before he could control himself. Jon looked pleased that he’d finally coaxed some emotion out of the stiff Speaker.

“And when Tip got Reagan a Valentine’s Day card, Reagan said he knew it was from Tip because the heart was bleeding,” Jon laughed.

“I’m never buying you a Valentine’s Day card Mr. President,” Wyldon said. “That I can promise you.”

Jon threw up his hands in a mock surrender. “Fine, fine. But don’t close off the possibility. I can be very charming.”

Wyldon shuddered. “That’s what I’m afraid of.”


End file.
